Halo_ Evolutions - Essential Tales of the Halo Universe - Eric Nylund [16]
They went in, Partch setting the door to stay slightly ajar behind them.
“Why not close the door all the way?” asked Soren.
“I’m not sure the card will open it from the inside,” said Partch.
Stolen or rigged, then, thought Soren. Never mind, he thought, then recited in his head one of Partch’s lines: When the government goes bad, we all have to do things that we normally wouldn’t do until it’s back on the right track again.
“It’s the sixth cabinet,” said Partch. “I disabled the alarm this morning from my panel. And I’ve put in a loop for the AI to look at for the room and the hall. Not easy, if I do say so myself, and not something likely to last long. Do you think you can open it?”
“What’s in there?” asked Soren.
“Something important,” he said. “Something we need.”
Soren nodded, staring at the cabinet. It was made of a brushed metal, perhaps steel, the doors seemingly quite thick. He reached up and put his hand over the top edge, felt the door’s top lip, gave an exploratory pull. It didn’t move.
“I don’t think I can do it without a prybar,” said Soren.
Partch nodded, took a flat titanium-alloy bar, flanged at one end, out of his backpack.
“You came prepared,” said Soren.
Partch just smiled. Soren took the bar and forced the end of it in the slight channel between the two doors, grunting, barely denting the metal slightly to either side, working it in until it had gone as far as it’d go. Then, putting all his weight into it, veins popping out on his arms, he pulled.
For a moment Soren thought that even the crowbar would not be enough. He felt his arms burning, and a black hole began to open in his vision, the pain he always felt under the surface becoming reactivated by this new stress of muscle on bone. Then there was a creaking sound from the cabinet door and it buckled just a little around the lock.
He let up and forced the bar in deeper, and then bore down again. The door creaked again and buckled further, then this time came free. He handed the crowbar back to Partch who put it away, and then he opened the cabinet door fully.
Inside was a titanium case, about thirty centimeters long and fifteen wide, maybe ten centimeters deep.
“What is it?” asked Soren. “What’s inside?”
Partch just smiled. He was just reaching for it when they heard a voice from behind them.
“I don’t suppose you’d care to explain yourself,” it said.
Soren turned, his expression immediately going flat and neutral. It was one of the Spartans, not one that Soren had known well, someone he’d only rarely been teamed with before washing out. Randall, his name was. He wasn’t dressed in uniform or battle gear, was dressed down in a simple black T-shirt and loose gray cloth pants. His face was as neutral as Soren’s.
“Hello, Randall,” said Soren, thinking quickly. “Problem with this cabinet, with the lock mechanism. Sometimes it won’t lock, sometimes it won’t open.”
“I know you,” said Randall. “Soren, right? Used to be a Spartan. But you’re not a technician.”
“No,” said Partch, “but I am. The lock had frozen and I couldn’t get it open. I asked for his help to unjam it.”
“At this hour?” asked Randall.
“The lab is swamped during the day,” claimed Partch. “They didn’t want us clanging around during office hours.”
Randall looked back and forth between them. “All right,” he said. “You don’t mind if I verify, do you?”
“Of course not,” said Soren.
“If we weren’t supposed to be here, the alarm would have gone off,” added Partch. “But no, by all means, you should verify.”
Randall nodded, his lips tight. “Let’s go then.”
Soren immediately started for the door. Randall moved back and out into the hall to let him come, keeping a safe distance. He’s smart, thought Soren. Well trained. He started down the hall, Partch just behind him, Randall taking up the rear.
“Where